


Three Days in and the Rest of Our Lives

by tifaching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: Dean arrived on Lisa's doorstep three days ago, looking like his world had ended.  She wants him to stay, but there are a few things she needs to get straight.
Relationships: Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: Supernatural Spring Fling 2020





	Three Days in and the Rest of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stardustdean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustdean/gifts).



> Written for the wonderful Stardustdean at this year's Supernatural Spring Fling on Live Journal.

There’s been a bottle of Jack Daniels in Lisa’s liquor cabinet for at least five years, cracked for a thank you dinner with Josh from the loan department at her bank who’d put together financing for her yoga studio. Enough was poured for two moderate scotch and sodas, both Josh’s, who’d been sent on his way after their meal with a polite hand shake and Lisa’s promise to make sure her customers knew how helpful he’d been. Lisa’s hard partying days ended with the first indication Ben was on the way and only two bottles of wine, one red and one white, flank the whiskey in the otherwise empty cabinet. A glass of wine with dinner and a few beers on a hot afternoon are the extent of her consumption these days. She’s not twenty one any more and her fitness is her income. Three days after Dean turns up on her doorstep, exhausted and shattered, she notices the bottle is gone.

“Dean?” she calls, circling out through the house. She’s been giving him space, there for him but not pushing, respecting his horrible loss. Sam’s absence is like an open wound and figuring out Dean’s coping mechanisms is still a work in progress. That alcohol might be one of them doesn’t come as a shock. A cut glass tumbler with a little ice and an overpour of whiskey has been in his hand more than once in the past few days. Even with that there should be a good amount left in the bottle. Back in the day she’d matched him shot for shot and even during the best weekend of her life, she’d recognized the darkness behind his eyes. His cheeky grin, bad boy persona and, well, skills, attracted her like catnip but she’d grown up with an alcoholic for a father and the signs were all there, if even in their infancy.

He’s not in the kitchen or the office or the bedroom. She makes a quick stop at her jewelry box and pulls something out of the top drawer, sliding it into the pocket of her jeans. A glance out the window shows no sign of him in the yard. She heads back down the stairs and takes a right turn into the short hallway that leads to the garage. And he’s there, where she should have known he would be, seated on the concrete floor, long, blue jean covered leg stretched out, back against the tarp covered form of his car. His “baby” she’d heard him call it when he’d apologized to it for covering it up. She’s not sure if he’s going to stay. She wants him to. To give him a safe place to mourn and to heal, to maybe find something wonderful: after what he and his brother did for her and Ben, there’s nothing she wants more. She’s a mom first, though, and they’ve got some boundaries to set.

“Hey,” she says, sliding down beside him, empty bottle on the floor between them. She flicks a finger at it, tinking against the glass. “I’d ask if you could stand a girl a drink, but we seem to be all out.” His mouth twists into a mockery of a smile as he raises his eyes to meet hers and the split second of hell she sees behind them makes her breath catch.

“Sorry,” Dean says with a shrug, “but you said to help myself to anything. And it was almost gone anyway.” His face morphs into a more natural smile so smoothly you wouldn’t know it was forced if you weren’t looking for it and Lisa’s heart breaks a little at how quickly his defenses kick in.

“It was almost full three days ago,” she says, sliding a hand over his and linking their fingers “And it’s ten-thirty in the morning.”

“Wow, that late.” He tightens his fingers in her grip. “Time does fly.”

“Probably seems later when you get up at three o’clock in the morning.”

“Sorry.” He turns his face away. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Lisa laughs and lays her head against his shoulder. “I’ve got mom ears. And with Ben at Marco’s for a few days, it had to be you I heard in the hallway.”

“It didn’t, you know.” He turns back and stares her in the eye, dead serious and dead sober. “You know what’s out there. It could have been anything in the hallway.”

Lisa returns his look with interest and tells as big a truth as he just did. “I trusted that you wouldn’t let anything be out there. I trust _you_.”

Dean’s head jerks in a small negation as his gaze leaves Lisa and darts to everything but her face. His mouth opens, then closes again and before he can say anything, Lisa shifts to her knees and straddles his legs where they’re stretched out along the floor. Gripping his face between her palms she forces him to look at her.”

“I trust you,” she repeats. “And I like you and I’m attracted to you beyond all good sense.” Dean opens his mouth again and she places two fingers across it. “I don’t know what you’re going through. I’ve never lost someone that I love like that. But I want to help you through it. I want to know about Sam and you and your life. I want you to talk when you’re ready and I want you to stay and see what this thing between us can be. I want to see what can happen with you and me and Ben. Because I think it can be something really good.”

Dean’s eyes are wide and she can feel slight tremors under her fingers. “Lise,” he whispers. “I don’t…”

“I know,” she says, reaching down to pick up the bottle. “And I know you’re hurting more than I can imagine. And I know this helps numb it, I do.” She digs in her pocket and pulls out a blue oval that she places in Dean's palm.

He turns it over in his hands for a moment reading the inscription. “Is this yours?”

“My father’s. His six month AA chip. The longest he ever made it without diving back into the bottle. He was a good man, but after my mom died he changed. He ended up drinking himself to death. I can’t have that around Ben. I won’t.”

“You want me to go?” His voice is rough and he’s pale beneath the freckles she loves so much.

“No.” She leans forward and kisses him gently. “I want you to stay. More than just about anything. But if you can’t I want to get that settled now.”

“I’ll make it work,” he says and it sounds like a promise. “But AA…”

“Just cut back,” she says, putting the bottle on the ground. “Cold turkey is not necessary. A drink or two after dinner, not a bottle every couple of days. Can you do that?”

“I have to.” Dean stares at Lisa, but she feels like he’s looking somewhere far away. “I will. But what if I…I mean, how can you…”

“Like I said.” Lisa runs her fingers through Dean’s hair and kisses him again. “I trust you.”

Dean draws in a ragged breath and leans his forehead into hers. She can smell the whiskey on his breath and see the lines of exhaustion in his drawn face. He probably hasn’t had more than a few hours sleep since he arrived.

“C’mon,” Lisa says, sliding smoothly to her feet and taking his hand. “How about a nice hot shower, a deep massage and a long nap?” She waggles her eyebrows at him. “Together.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, balancing on the car to get up off the floor.

“I want to,” she says, taking his hand and leading him toward the door and the beginning of whatever their future will be. “I want you.”


End file.
